Steve Newcomb Interview Published on: 02, Mar 2026

All four disciplines trained me to think structurally.Project management taught me how to break a massive goal into manageable steps. Writing a dual-timeline novel required exactly that mindset—mapping two storylines, pacing them evenly, and engineering both toward a planned ending. It felt surprisingly similar to building software: each scene has to logically trigger the next.

Music shaped my sense of rhythm and flow. Story has cadence, just like a score—tension builds, releases, then builds again. When I studied programming years ago, I used to dream about code and musical notation blending together. That’s honestly how storytelling feels to me now: logic and art working in harmony.

And ministry grounded the “why.” It helped me focus on theme, meaning, and the emotional impact behind the plot.

My wife and I spent years traveling with His Majesty’s Ministries, writing and performing Biblical dramas. When we retired from touring, I suddenly had creative space again.

There was this novel idea I’d been carrying around for decades. I’d always said, “Someday.” Retirement finally gave me the time to turn that someday into now. It felt like the natural next chapter—still storytelling, just in a different medium.

Interestingly, the novel didn’t start out with spiritual themes. But after attending the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference, I realized something: if I’m going to spend years writing a book, I want it to matter.

That shifted my perspective. Instead of preaching, I focused on weaving in hope, moral courage, and redemption through character choices. My goal is to challenge and encourage readers—whether they share my faith or not—through story rather than sermons.

During development of my Martin Luther musical, we performed an early version for a focus group and held a Q&A afterward. Their feedback changed the show for the better.

That experience taught me the power of critique. Today I still rely on it through Word Weavers. Writing can feel solitary, but strong stories are shaped in community. Other perspectives always reveal blind spots you can’t see yourself.

I started as a pantser, but this book forced me to become a plotter.

With two timelines, multiple families, and historical continuity, “winging it” wasn’t sustainable. My editor encouraged me to outline everything, so I built a detailed spreadsheettracking POVs, arcs, and major beats.

Once I did that, the writing became easier and more creative—not less. Structure gave me freedom. When I sat down to write, I already knew the purpose of the chapter.

Honestly, all three show up equally.

Technology informs the IBM and early computing threads. Music and art shape the emotional texture of the story. And ministry influences the moral and spiritualquestions the characters wrestle with.

It’s less intentional and more inevitable—those interests are simply how I see the world.

For me, plot comes first—especially in a thriller. Every chapter has to create forward momentum and a reason to turn the page.

The historical and artistic details are seasoning, not the main course. They add richness and authenticity, but they always serve the story. If a detail slows pacing, it gets cut.

At the same time, believable, imperfect characters keep readers emotionally invested. That balance keeps the book both educational and entertaining.

Family deeply influences my content choices.

I want to prove that stories can be intense and compelling without relying on gratuitous language or explicit content. My books are essentially PG. Relationships are portrayed honestly but respectfully.As a husband and grandfather, I’m very aware that stories shape hearts. I want mine to reflect hope, faithfulness, and the strength of family bonds.

On stage, actors and visuals do half the work. A clenched fist or a tone of voice communicates emotion instantly.

In a novel, words have to carry everything. You’re responsible for creating the entire sensory experience inside the reader’s imagination. It’s more internal and more descriptive—but also incredibly intimate.It’s like directing a movie inside someone’s mind.

Craft. Early drafts revealed a lot of weaknesses—passive voice, POV confusion, uneven dialogue.I treated writing like a skill to learn, not a talent to rely on. Conferences, classes, critique groups, and serious study made the difference. Improvement came through deliberate practice.That mindset—be teachable—was probably the biggest breakthrough.

Place adds authenticity you can’t fake.

Growing up in Southern California naturally shaped the modern timeline. And actually walking the streets of Paris and Berlin gave me sensory details—sounds, smells, atmosphere—that photos can’t provide.

Those lived experiences make the settings feel real on the page.

Absolutely. There’s usuallya small bowl of chocolate chips next to my keyboard. Consider it my official writing fuel.

“Retired” is relative.We help care for two grandchildren, so life is still full.

Writing happens in the margins—an hour here, an hour there. And post-publication marketing is practically a job of its own.

But creatively, I’m just getting started. I already have two more stories planned that continue the world and characters from Plundering Picasso.

AllAuthor has been incredibly helpful—especially for an indie author wearing multiple hats. Their graphics, GIF tools, and social-media support feel like having a small marketing team behind me.Just as important is the community. Writing can be isolating, and it’s encouraging to connect with other authors walking the same path.